


Love Potion No. 9

by orphan_account



Category: Metallica
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Humor, Intimacy, M/M, Marital Problems, Relationship Problems, Romance, Smut, Supernatural Elements, intimacy problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26919940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: James has some issues (or issue, it's just *one* issue) with Lars, and Kirk finds a... creative solution for him.
Relationships: James Hetfield/Lars Ulrich
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in Oct 2011, the India gigs. This first part here is October 27th, the day before the band's 30th anniversary.

James rose an eyebrow. “An elixir, huh.”  
  
“Yep.” Kirk swished the crystal bottle around. “Blessed by the goddess Ishtar.”  
  
“Ishtar?”  
  
“Y’know. Goddess of love, sex…”  
  
James frowned.  
  
“The lady at the bazaar told a good story, alright?”  
  
Behind Kirk, Tom, his security and PA, rolled his eyes. James agreed wholeheartedly. “So what’s in it?”  
  
“Natural remedy stuff. Spices, herbs—uh.” Kirk popped the heart-shape top off. A strong sweet smell flooded out as he took a big whiff. “Mm. Some tropical juices.” He pushed it back in with a small twist. “And probably enough vodka to give Lars a buzz if anything else.”  
  
James shook his head. “Right.” He offered his hand. “Why not.”  
  
“Exactly, bro.” He slapped it into his palm. “Give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen?”  
  
“I get a sick and bitchy Lars is what.”  
  
“It’s an elixir! He won’t get sick.”  
  
“And when he does?”  
  
“Tch. Whatever, man. Tell me how it goes tomorrow.” Kirk wiggled his eyebrows. “Y’know?”  
  
“Heh.” He turned away, waving over his shoulder. “See ya later.”  
  
He shouldn’t have told Kirk anything. As nice as the gesture was, he knew this ‘elixir’ was nothing but wasted money. Lars might appreciate the bottle though, or get a good laugh at it. It looked like a Victoria’s Secret perfume bottle doused in Lisa Frank rainbows, a curved-crystal shape, heart-handle top and fake jewels at the wide base. Anything Kirk meant silly, zany or stupid, and this represented all three. Still, the gesture was nice. Kirk cared enough about his problems— _problem, we only have one_ —to help out in some way.  
  
When he came into the suite, James found Lars the same way he left him: sitting cross-legged and hunched over on the end of the bed hunched, faxed press releases, itineraries, newspapers and magazines circling him. On the TV played a Bollywood movie on mute, the curtains to their windows wide open to a beautiful Indian sunset. And like he expected, the food Lars’s PA brought him sat untouched in the kitchen.  
  
“Lars?”  
  
“Mm?” Lars looked up and briefly smiled. “Hey James.”  
  
“Hey there. Still working?”  
  
“Almost done, I promise.”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“Seriously! Last one.” He turned back to the stapled pages, studying them with a frown. “Just going over some Fillmore stuff.”  
  
“Again?”  
  
“I know, I know, but we’ve only got a month left to prepare.”  
  
“Well, do it later and come eat.” James came to the bed and wrapped an arm around Lars’s shoulders, kissing his temple. “I got you a surprise.”  
  
That got his attention. “Surprise?” Lars grinned. “Why didn’t you say so?”  
  
James chuckled, pulling Lars with him. “C’mon. It’s in the kitchen.”  
  
The closeness didn’t last. Lars pulled away the second he was on his feet, practically bouncing out of the bedroom. James sighed, following behind him. _He’s excited, that’s all._ Except it was happening a lot lately. Lars pulling away, doing other things. Distraction here, a person there, going away to somewhere, without him…  
  
Lars leaned onto the kitchen table, bouncing on the balls of his bare feet. His head whipped around like an excited terrier’s. “Where is it, huh?”  
  
James pulled the bottle out of his pocket. “Here.” He rested it next to Lars’s plate of food and slipped his hands back into his pockets. And when he looked back at Lars—  
  
Lars’s enthusiasm quickly deflated into confusion.  
  
 _Dammit._ “It’s, uh… an elixir. Blessed by Ishtar.”  
  
Lars blinked.  
  
“Ah, y’know. Goddess of—” He cleared his throat,. “I dunno. Some goddess.”  
  
He watched Lars take his time picking it up, twisting it around with both hands, thoroughly inspecting the curves, the heart-shaped top, the fake jewels at the base. James rocked on his feet, chewing his bottom lip off and on— _say something_ —his hands flexing.  
  
And then, Lars laughed. “Kirk got it, huh?”  
  
“Yeah, he did.”  
  
“I knew it.” He popped the top off, taking a whiff of it like Kirk did. “Mm, smells good at least. Kinda like fruit punch.”  
  
“Apparently has vodka in it.”  
  
Lars lit up. “Really? I’m down.”  
  
His anxiety intensified as Lars walked to the cupboard and took out a mug, pouring the ‘elixir’ out of the bottle until it filled all the way to the rim. The liquid almost seemed to sparkle in the waning sunlight.  
  
He held his breath, watching Lars take a nice, long sip.  
  
 _Please like it._  
  
Lars pulled his lips away from the rim. Licked his lips. And James breathed again when Lars broke out into a big grin. “Hey! This tastes awesome. You sure this has vodka in it? I can’t even taste it.”  
  
James shook his head and chuckled, “I don’t even know. Kirk said so.”  
  
He took another long sip, smacking and licking his lips loudly. “Oh no, no way there’s vodka in this. This tastes like a super sweet fruit punch, but not too sweet, y’know? Whatever’s in it is just great.” He came back to the table, offering the mug. “Want some?”  
  
“No thanks. This is all yours.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Yeah. Enjoy it.”  
  
“You’re missing out…” Lars gave him a playful look over the rim, taking another sip. “Mm.” He pulled away and sat down at the table finally, resting the mug down. “ _God_ that’s good. Tell Kirk thanks.”  
  
“Will do.” He kissed his temple again. _Lars liked it. He fucking liked it._ His lips lingered on Lars’s skin, close to his ear. “Want me to heat that up?”  
  
He smiled when Lars jolted a little, catching his tone of voice easily. “Uh…”  
  
“Your food.”  
  
“Ah, no. That’s fine.”  
  
“ _You_ sure?”  
  
“James…”  
  
“Heh heh.” He kissed his temple again, running his nose down the skin. “I’m just teasing, baby.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Lars kissed him back, on the cheek. He smiled up at him. “Have you eaten yet?”  
  
“Yeah, I had mine earlier.”  
  
“Oh…” Lars’s smile waned. “Sorry.”  
  
“S’okay. I’m gonna go relax, watch some TV.” He pulled away, nodding to the mug. “Enjoy.”  
  
“Oh I am.”  
  
He chuckled, letting his hand linger and swipe down the back of Lars’s neck to his spine, and then off. Lars looked over his shoulder, smiling and watching him go, before turning back to his meal.  
  
As he lay back on the bed, kicking off his shoes and flipping through the television for something not subtitled, he mulled over how good things went. Lars was happy. Gave him some goddamn attention. A kiss. A smile. Then felt bad for what he did, again—ignoring him. And that moment. It felt good, that moment. They hadn’t had many of those moments lately.  
  
He settled on an old rerun of Seinfeld, folding his hands over his belly. But his attention went back and forth between the TV screen and Lars in the kitchen. Lars took his time drinking that ‘elixir,’ each sip longer and deliberate than the last. Seemed to like it more than Kirk did.  
  
 _Maybe…_  
  
Lars slowly licked his lips. They turned pink from the elixir.  
  
James shook his head. _No, don’t be stupid, Hetfield. It’s just fruit punch._  
  
Later that evening, his hopes for a change all died. After his dinner, Lars dressed for bed and crawled into bed by his side, watched TV quietly with him against his side, like old times. But half an hour later, Lars fell into the new patterns. He curled up on his side, back to him, turned off his own lamp, murmured a ‘night’ and fell asleep. James didn’t even bother to say something back, let alone give him a good night kiss. The moment in the kitchen was just that. A moment. He went to bed soon after Lars, feeling more discouraged than he had been the past three months since the ‘new norm’ casted an ugly cloud over their lives—love life, sex life, everything. Lars was just tired. Bored. Overworked. Pushing him away without even knowing it. Pushing him away until it would be too late.  
  
And then he awoke to Lars tossing and turning beside him.  
  
He rolled onto his back, looking over his shoulder.  
  
A grunt. Another sharp turn.  
  
“Lars?”  
  
A louder grunt. The bed bounced. Then a long huff. “Shit.”  
  
“You okay?”  
  
“No I’m not.” A fist pounded on the sheets, next to his hip. “Fuck.”  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“I don’t know!” The sheets pulled back. Light clicked on. And James found himself staring at the back of Lars—a large dark sweat spot in the middle of his spine. “Did you put on the fucking heater?”  
  
“No…”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“I didn’t put the heater on.”  
  
“Ugh. Fuck. _Fuck._ ” Lars reached over his shoulders and yanked the damp shirt off, over his head, flinging it to the floor. Went to his feet and yanked off his shorts the same way too. “I’m fucking hot as shit.”  
  
“You coming down with something?”  
  
“I better fucking not!” Lars walked away to the middle of the room, pacing around in a circle naked. “I can’t get sick before the gig. Fuck. _Fuck!_ ”  
  
In the lamp light, James found Lars’s body shining unusually in heavy sweat, as if he just came out of a sauna. Sweat ran down his stomach, his hips. Drops collected and fell over his chest, his neck. Sweat on his back, his ass, his thighs… and he swallowed hard, his dick rising under the sheets. “Maybe, uh, a shower?” He casually laid a hand over his crotch. “It could help.”  
  
“Yeah…” Lars slowly stopped pacing, running fingers through his sweaty hair. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll go do that.” He turned towards the bathroom. “Thanks James.”  
  
“And I’ll get some ibuprofen too. Help break the fever.”  
  
Lars waved over his shoulder, closing the bathroom door behind him. James pulled the sheets back when he heard the shower turn on, and he stared at the tent in his sleeping shorts with a sigh.  
  
He called up Ray for the ibuprofen and laid it out on Lars’s bedside table with a tall glass of cold ice water. Lars emerged from the bathroom much calmer than before, patting his chest and arms down with a white towel. He watched Lars swallow down the pills and chug the whole glass down, the ice clinking together when he was done.  
  
“Better?”  
  
Lars nodded, wiping a hand over his mouth. “M’yeah.”  
  
“Good.” He pushed the sheets back for him.  
  
“Thanks.” The bed dipped underneath Lars’s weight as he climbed back in. “I dunno what happened. I just felt like, I couldn’t breathe.”  
  
James scooted closer. “Maybe it was something you ate?”  
  
“Maybe…” Lars reached over, turning off the light. “It doesn’t feel like food poisoning though.” He sighed. “Fuck. I dunno.”  
  
In the darkness, James found Lars’s cool back and touched it. “Get some rest.” He rubbed gently up and down. “We’ll see in the morning.”  
  
“Mm… you’re right.” Lars yawned. “Night James.”  
  
The urge to kiss him compelled James forward, but he stopped himself short. He swiped his hand down Lars’s spine, patted the tailbone and then turned away, back onto his side. He stayed awake, listening to the sound of Lars’s steady breathing, waiting for any movement, any sudden curses. Any change of his mind. A touch. A soft ‘James.’  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
James shut his eyes.  
  
He was on the edge of sleep when the bed bounced and shifted again.  
  
Heat fell over his neck. A hand rested on his side. And he woke up fully when lips brushed his skin.  
  
“James?”  
  
Lars sounded… “Yeah?” Different.  
  
“Um…” Very different. “Can I hug you?”  
  
A different James missed. “Of course.”  
  
“Thanks.” An arm wrapped around his waist. Chest met back. Lars’s mumbles on his skin felt good. “I dunno… I just…” So did the soft sigh Lars released. It spilled heat across his neck, down to his collarbones, like warm water. “I needed to hug you.”  
  
It felt good. Missed. What James needed. And yet—“You sure you’re okay?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” A small, soft kiss pressed on his shoulder. Then another. And a breath. A long, long breath, nose on his skin, in and out. “I feel… much better now…”  
  
Lars sagged against him. The grip around his waist loosened. Heavy breathing turned into small wheezed-snores, tickling his ear. James smiled, folding his arm over Lars’s. He let go a long sigh himself, twining their fingers together, and fell asleep as well.  
  
 _Maybe it worked after all…_


	2. Part Two

_“James…”  
  
Kisses tickled his stomach, down and over his hip. Gentle hands pressed at his thighs. More kisses on his skin, across the pelvic line to the other hip. Then licks, soft licks tasting and teasing the dent and then down. Licking the way James liked it. The way he missed outside of dreams.  
  
He sighed, weaving his fingers through Lars’s long hair, spreading his legs open for him. And Lars took the invitation, lifting them up, holding them in place. Warm, wet heat enveloped his cock, and he opened his eyes to peer through eyelashes the bobbing head sucking him down slow. Deliberately slow. Stretched lips turned wet and red. The moan sent good vibrations through his dick and up his spine. Lars’s fingers dug in, bruised and massaged his muscles all at once—strength in hands he needed in times like now. When he needed to give up and give in. Not think. Not want anything except this.  
  
Lars drew his mouth up the shaft. Let his lips linger at the tip, tongue circling the underside, then giving the helmet a flick. And then the eyes, those fucking eyes behind thick eyelashes looked at him, and James gasped and moaned all in one. He watched his legs tremble in Lars’s hold, watched Lars smile and keep smiling as he drew his dick into his mouth again with a slow curl of his tongue and a gentle dip of his neck. Sucked him all the way down, until Lars’s nose pushed his stomach, and then—_  
  
“Oh!”  
  
James’s eyes flew wide open.  
  
In his fuzzy vision, he found the dream a reality: his body naked, legs held up and spread open, fingers in the sheets—and Lars, mouth full of his cock, needy eyes devouring him.  
  
The corner of Lars’s lips curled up.  
  
And he swallowed.  
  
James jolted. “Fuck!”  
  
Lars drew his head up, down—and swallowed.  
  
“FUCK!” His head slammed against the pillow. “Oh fuck…”  
  
Again.  
  
“Hnngh…”  
  
And _again._  
  
“Ah… fuck…”  
  
And again, and again.  
  
“Laaaars…”  
  
Lars gave his dick a long suck, down to the base. Slid his head up and off and panted over his cock, “James… want you…” And sucked him back in, faster than before, the air wet with his moans.  
  
He bucked his hips up, panting for air. _He’s… he’s actually…_ His hands pulled at the sheets, yanking one off the bedcorner. _I thought… this was…_ He clenched his teeth and growled, hissed, breathed hard. _Oh God…_  
  
Faster. Stronger sucks. Louder moans. Hips rhythmic, moving up, fucking Lars’s mouth—and James twisted his head to the side, grinding his cheek into the pillow, his legs strung stiff, and the burn eating through his insides and out.  
  
And Lars wasn’t stopping. Lars was… he was…  
  
“Lars… Laaars…” And he came, his hips clearing off the bed. “ _Lars!_ ”  
  
The hands on his thighs caught him and held him still. Wet heat sucked him down to the base, and kept sucking, and sucking, _and sucking_. Taking him down.  
  
Noises spilled out that he didn’t recognize were his at first, tight choked whimpers struggling for incoherent words, as his head thrashed back and forth, sheets winding around his arms, centering him down, until his orgasm finally stopped and he slumped with a loud _ooh._  
  
Lars took his time pulling off from his cock. He shivered as cool air hit wet saliva, and then shook here and there, little aftershocks instigated by every lick Lars gave to his sensitive cock. He forced himself to look and moaned: Lars was cleaning up the come on his cock. With a hand on the base of his dick, he licked his tongue from one side of the shaft to the other, until nothing was left.  
  
He pressed a shaky hand to Lars’s head. “S-Stop… stop…”  
  
Lars gave a kiss to his cock and then finally let it go. Come stained around his lips, dribbled down his chin. If he wasn’t so far gone from that one orgasm, James knew he would’ve gotten hard again at the sight. Especially at how Lars smiled at him and seemed to just _purr_ , laying his cheek down on his hip and rubbing it lightly.  
  
“Morning.”  
  
James laughed and patted Lars’s head, smoothing his palm over his short hair. “Fuck, Lars.”  
  
He giggled. “I take it you liked it.”  
  
“Like doesn’t even cover it.”  
  
Lars grinned. He snaked his arms around James’s waist and sighed up at him, blinking slow. “You’re so hot.”  
  
He chuckled. “Yeah?”  
  
“Mmhmm.” He squeezed his arms tight and rubbed his hard cock against James’s knee. “So fucking hot… mmm.” Kissed the dent of his hip and slowly thrusted his hips. “James…”  
  
 _Something’s gotten into him._ His hand drifted down to the back of Lars’s neck and cupped it. _He hasn’t been in the mood for months, but now…_ “You wanna come, baby?”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“How bad?”  
  
“Bad, James…”  
  
He squeezed his neck. “Then come up here. I’ll take care of you.”  
  
They shifted around, James leaning up against the headboard, Lars settling onto his lap. Whatever had gotten into him, James didn’t care. He’d take it. It’d been too long since he saw a Lars like this: knee-deep gone in lust and need, all for him. Begging for him. Rubbing his cock against him without thought, come drying on his chin, moaning through wet pink lips, “Please James…” And as he wrapped his hand around Lars’s cock and gave him a pump and a stroke, watching Lars’s gasp and whimper up close, James realized how much he truly missed this.  
  
His strokes became faster the louder Lars moaned his name. It turned into a chant, rising higher in volume, changing in pitch, until the words turned unintelligible. He kissed away a whimper, ate up a moan, secured his free arm around Lars’s waist and pulled back to take in how he looked when he came into his hand. It felt good seeing him like this. Feeling him like this again.  
  
 _It must’ve worked somehow._  
  
Lars gave one final thrust and slumped forward onto his chest. He gently let him go and hugged him tight, burying his face into his neck. A little whimper spilled out, the body in his arms shivering, and he soothed Lars with one hand from his hair down his spine and up.  
  
“Shh… shh… I got you, baby.” He kissed the underside of his ear. “I got you.”  
  
He waited for Lars to calm down in his arms before he broke the embrace. Even then, they stayed close on the bed as they talked through the morning, chest to chest, hands roaming their bodies, touching idly. Finally, James felt everything was going to be okay.  
  
Five hours later, that wasn’t the case.  
  
“Lars!”  
  
Lars jerked his hands away from his bicep. “Oh shit, sorry, sorry.”  
  
“That’s the sixth time today!”  
  
“I’m sorry!”  
  
“Ugh.” James looked around the hallway to make sure only their PA’s were around on their hotel floor, and then leaned in. “Look, in private, touch me all you want. But when we’re in public—”  
  
“I know! Fuck, I know, I’m sorry.”  
  
“Then why are you doing it?!”  
  
“I don’t know! I just…” There came that glossy-eyed stare again that James had been seeing all day. A far-away, far-gone look with a dopey smile. “You’re so… fucking _hot_ today.” And there he was, touching his arm again. “I love your tats—”  
  
He jerked his arm away. “Lars!”  
  
And he snapped out of it again. “Oh fuck I’m sorry. Fuck!” His hands rose to his face, running over his head. “God, what’s wrong with me?”  
  
“I have no idea.” _Liar._ He clasped his hands onto Lars’s shoulders and squeezed hard. “But I need you to promise me something.”  
  
“Anything.”  
  
“I need you to keep your hands to yourself for the rest of today.”  
  
“You got it.”  
  
“Especially at the press conference.”  
  
“Right. Of course.”  
  
“I’m serious Lars.”  
  
“I mean it! I won’t touch you.” He made a half-hearted cross over his heart. “I swear it.”  
  
“You _sure_?”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
He stared at Lars for a long moment, looking for the lie. All he found was sincerity. He grunted, pressing their foreheads together. “Okay. You better.”  
  
For the most part, Lars did keep his promise. James didn’t feel his hands at all in public. hands to himself. When they posed for photos, Lars had Kirk between them. And when they posed later in front of the press, Lars didn’t wrap his arm around his waist as usual. He kept it to his side (fingers twitching beside his thigh), his demeanor calm, cordial and collected.  
  
Three minutes into the press conference though, he learned Lars’s loophole really quickly.  
  
“Shit!”  
  
All heads turned in James’s direction when he jumped in his seat. The host of the press Q&A gave him a peculiar look. “Mr. Hetfield?”  
  
“Ah, sorry, haha.” He settled back down and fished out his iPhone. “Forgot it was on vibrate.”  
  
The whole crowd erupted in laughter. Kirk and Rob laughed with. James joined along out of awkward nervousness. Lars only smiled, but behind those sunglasses, James _felt_ the guilty stare.  
  
Underneath the table, he pushed away Lars’s foot. A quick glare— _stop that shit_ —and he returned his attention back to the press.  
  
Not even a minute later, he felt Lars’s socked toes brush up his ankle again.  
  
 _Goddammit Lars._  
  
He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned his elbows on the table. Sent a sideways glare to Lars— _stop it._  
  
Lars weakly smiled back. _Sorry._ And the foot on his ankle stroked in slow circles.  
  
James dug his nails into his palms. _Fuck._ Ground his teeth together when the foot slipped up to stroke the back of his calf. _Fucking…_ Gentle strokes, taking their time, and somehow Lars the fucking multi-tasking blabbermouth was able to answer a question on fucking Lulu, chat with Kirk, charm a reporter and crack a joke, all the while playing footsie under the table.  
  
And despite his furious rage, his dick was painfully hard in his pants.  
  
 _FUCK._  
  
“Ah, Mr. Hetfield?”  
  
He snapped at the host. “ _What?_ ”  
  
“What do you think?”  
  
“About what?”  
  
The host recoiled. “Um, the… the question?”  
  
“Uh.” He blinked, turned to the audience. Everyone looked as shocked and intimidated as the host did. “Oh. Er.” His cheeks went aflame as he mumbled, “What was it again?”  
  
“Are you excited for the show tonight?”  
  
“Oh, yeah! Yeah, totally excited. We have a lot of passionate fans here in India and it’s gonna be great playing for them tonight.”  
  
The question passed down to Lars next. James swiftly crossed his legs—bit back the groan—keeping his ankle as far as possible from Lars’s wayward foot.  
  
Ten minutes later, the press conference was over. _Mercifully_ over. They posed for pics one last time, waved goodbye and then led out of the room, to the elevators and their suite floor. Itinerary said thirty minutes to pack up and relax, then drive to the venue, more interviews, photoshoot, M&G, etc. Except he had a guitarist to interrogate (and possibly maim) first.  
  
“Stay here.” He pushed Lars into their bedroom by his wrists. “And don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back.”  
  
“But James…” Lars pushed back, trying to lay his head on his chest. “It’s thirty minutes we could spend together well…”  
  
“Later.”  
  
“Pleeease?”  
  
“I said later. Now don’t leave the room.” He gave him a quick kiss. “Be good and I’ll reward you. Okay?”  
  
Lars smiled lazy. “Mm, I _really_ like the sound of that.” And licked his lips.  
  
 _Shit, he sounds worse now._ “Well, you won’t get anything if you misbehave.”  
  
“Oh I won’t James, I promise.”  
  
“Good.” He pushed Lars into the suite a final time and let him go. “Now stay put.”  
  
Lars nodded slow. “Okaaay.”  
  
James gave him one last smile before he closed the door and stomped his way down the hall to Kirk’s room. Luckily Tom didn’t answer the door.  
  
Kirk grinned. “What’s up James?”  
  
The grin disappeared when James grabbed his shirt and shook him. “You idiot! What the hell did you give him?”  
  
“Woah! What the hell? What’d I do?!”  
  
“That fucking elixir!” He shoved them inside, slamming Kirk to the wall. “Whatever was in that elixir wasn’t spices or herbs or fucking natural remedy shit!”  
  
“Let me go! I didn’t do anything!”  
  
“He’s fucking high, Hammett!”  
  
“It’s probably the damn vodka!”  
  
“ _There was no vodka!_ ” He pushed his face into Kirk’s. “Just tell me that old woman said anything about side effects or some shit. Because I swear, if she didn’t—”  
  
“She did, fuck, she did!” He rose his hands up to James’s chest, trying to push him off. “Fucking let go and I’ll tell you!”  
  
“Fine!” James jerked his grip away, crossed his arms over his chest. “Talk.”  
  
“Alright already, jeez.” He straightened himself up. “Fuck, I didn’t know it’d give Lars such a bad side effect or anything.”  
  
“Out with it.”  
  
“Calm down! Man.” He took a deep breath, scooting away from James to widening the distance between them. “I got it at a bazaar when I went out with Tom and Rob. All she said was that stupid Ishtar shit—”  
  
“Great!”  
  
“And that it’d wear off in forty-eight hours! Fuck’s sake, at least let me finish my sentences here.”  
  
“Shit.” He ran a hand over his face, through his hair. “Shit.”  
  
“Yeah, it was like, part of her story or whatever. Forty-eight hours of heightened need and fertility and it’d go away in, like, some major release. Uh… ‘Ishtar’s most passionate burn’ or something.”  
  
“The fuck does that mean?”  
  
“Hell if I know!”  
  
“Ugh.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Now what am I supposed to do?”  
  
Kirk shrugged. “Wait the forty-eight hours, I guess.”  
  
“No no no, I can’t wait that long. You don’t get it. He’s been acting like a lovesick teenager all day, which is fine when we’re alone and when we have that day off on Saturday. But tonight? He’ll be all over me.”  
  
“Well, isn’t that what you wanted?”  
  
“I…” James froze. “Uh.”  
  
“Isn’t it? I mean, that’s why I got it, y’know. To help you two out.” Kirk shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “I didn’t know it’d actually _work_ though. I thought it’d loosen Lars up a bit, not drug him up.”  
  
James sighed. “Yeah, I know. I thought the same thing.” He came over to Kirk, opened his arms. “I’m sorry man. I overreacted.”  
  
“S’okay. You got worried.” He walked into James and returned the embrace wholeheartedly. “Lars’ll be okay. Make him drink lots of fluids. It’ll get it out of his system faster.”  
  
“Will do.” He patted his back hard and pulled away. “At least it’ll be gone by Sunday?”  
  
“It will.” Kirk shooed him out. “Better get ready, we don’t have much time until the show.”  
  
The door knocked twice. They turned to it as one, and from the other side came Tom’s voice. “Kirk, is James with you?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“We have an emergency.”  
  
James felt cold. “Is it Lars?”  
  
“Yes and no…”


	3. Chapter 3

Tom was right. It _was_ an emergency, and it _sort of_ involved Lars. The emergency itself was safety concerns for the Delhi gig. Barricade gone down, fans injured, insane amounts of disorganization from the promoters—all of which spelled, ‘No show, cancel it, make it up later.’ But Lars, of course, wanted to go. _Adamantly_ wanted to go.  
  
James heard Lars’s argument with Peter as he came down the hall, Kirk and Tom in tow. Rob was already there with their PA’s and a handful of crew members, all circled around Lars and Peter, watching the back-and-forth.  
  
“For the last time Lars, none of you are going,” Peter said. “You tell these people the gig’s cancelled and they’ll riot, hands down.”  
  
Lars frowned. “They might not if we show up and explain it ourselves. We’ve done it in the past before.”  
  
“In an insecure venue with bad barricades and shitty security? That just spells disaster to me.”  
  
“So we’ll bring Tom and Gio.”  
  
Peter rolled his eyes. “To hold off a crowd of twenty-five thousand plus. Right.”  
  
“There’s security there at the venue too, right?”  
  
One of the crewmembers snorted. “Like five fucking guards.”  
  
Rob winced. “Not good.”  
  
“See what I mean?” Peter said. “That’s that. I’m not taking the chance. You’re all staying.”  
  
Everyone murmured in agreement, except for Lars. He sharply turned on his heel, heading down the hall. “Then I’ll go by myself.”  
  
But James snatched his forearm, stopping him from going far. “No you’re not.”  
  
“James—”  
  
“You’re staying.”  
  
“But—”  
  
He squeezed hard, leaning over him. “You’re. Staying.”  
  
For once, James was relieved for the damn ‘elixir.’ The fight in Lars disappeared, replaced by that glossy-eyed, empty stare and dopey-drugged smile. “Okay James.”  
  
“Good. Go to the room.”  
  
“Okay…”  
  
He gave Lars’s arm one last squeeze before he let him go. Not even a few feet down the hall, James turned to Tom, who share the same shocked look as everyone else. “Hey Tom?”  
  
“Uh.” Tom blinked. “Yeah?”  
  
“Make sure he gets in safe for me? He hasn’t been feeling good lately.”  
  
“Uh. Yeah. Sure.”  
  
“Thanks man.”  
  
More questions shot out as Tom left to escort Lars up. A lot of ‘em. “Is he okay?” “Is he sick?” “What’s wrong with him?” “Does he need anything?” “He seems _really_ off.” And James sort of told the truth. “Yeah, he’s kinda down in the weather anyway. Needs a day’s rest. Don’t worry, I got it under control.” They all accepted what he said, with the only knowing eyes in the crowd being Kirk’s.  
  
He stayed downstairs with Peter, taking over Lars’s job for the evening. They went over logistics, potential make-up dates, legality issues with DNA and more. But James was mainly concerned about the rest of the crew returning safely. News of the riot broke out twenty minutes after the decision to cancel was announced at the venue. All James wanted was everything to be accounted for and okay.  
  
Tom, thankfully, assuaged his other worry in Lars, giving periodic updates through the evening. “Still sleeping” was all Tom said, and it calmed James down. Once this was over, he’d head back upstairs and deal with Lars and the next twenty-four hours.  
  
A little past eight in the evening, all the crew members had returned, and everyone retired for the evening. There were discussions about the crowd, some sort of riot, damaging equipment, the LCD screen and whatnot, but James left before he became part of the conversation. Everyone was back, 90% of the equipment was stored, and most importantly, they didn’t have to play a gig with a drugged-up, sexually-crazed Lars.  
  
“I suggest lying low tomorrow,” Peter told James before he went to his room. “Media’s gonna have a feeding frenzy.”  
  
James snorted. “Like I care.”  
  
“You sure Lars is gonna be okay for the Bangalore gig?”  
  
“Definitely. He’ll be fine by Sunday.” _I hope._ “A day of rest will help.”  
  
“Great! Sounds good. Well, I’ll leave you to it.” He waved over his shoulder. “Have a good night James.”  
  
“You too Peter.”  
  
He walked down the opposite way of the hall, heading back to the suite. After everything today, sleep sounded so good. Except there was a sexual-crazed, drugged Lars waiting for him, and most likely would be crawling over him like some crazy hormonal fangirl.  
  
James groaned. _At least we’ll be alone this time._  
  
When he came back to the room, everything was off, save one light coming from the bedroom. He frowned, locking the door behind him. “Lars?”  
  
His answer back was a cough.  
  
“Shit.”  
  
He walked in and found Lars curled up in a fetal position on his side, his naked body doused in sweat like the night before, except worse. His cheeks were bright red, his eyes barely open—and there was a large wet spot on the bed, next to his dirty hand, come drying on his fingers.  
  
Lars groaned, tired eyes rolling up at him. “James…?” His voice came out like a rasp.  
  
“Yeah baby, it’s me.” He knelt beside the bed, running a hand over his forehead. _Shit, he’s got a fever now_. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Hot.”  
  
“Did you take a cold shower?”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“And it didn’t work?”  
  
“Nuh-uh.” His eyes watered up. “S’wrong with me?”  
  
“Shh, don’t get upset. You’ll be okay.” He swiped a hand over Lars’s sweaty hair. “You just need to stay in all day tomorrow. Drink lots of fluids and stuff. Keep your body nice and cool.”  
  
“The gig…?”  
  
“Canceled. We’ll make it up later.”  
  
“Everyone ok?”  
  
“Everyone’s fine. We’re all here and accounted for.”  
  
“And Sunday?”  
  
“It’s still on.” He petted him from his hair to his neck. “We’ll leave for Bangalore day-of, okay?”  
  
“Okay…” Lars moaned, tilting his head into James’s hand. “James…”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
He moaned again, “I-I’m so hot…” Lars’s hand on the bed twitched, eyelids fluttering. “I don’t feel good.” He watched Lars’s cock stir, fingers itching close to the shaft, and he felt his own dick twitch in his jeans, watching Lars grip himself. “I just… oh God…” He watched the hand move up and down, watched Lars moan in front of him. “James… help…”  
  
Instinct wanted James to tell Lars ‘fight it, don’t give in.’ But more than 24 hours had passed since Lars drank it, and the elixir had clearly taken control of his body and mind. Resisting it could possibly make a negative effect, maybe a detrimental one. James had no idea, he wasn’t the one who bought the stupid thing.  
  
Lars’s free hand landed on his chest. Fingers tried to pull the fabric, but there was no strength in his grip. He felt searing heat from Lars’s palm spread across his sternum, a heavy scent of sweat and come hanging in the air.  
  
“Help me. Please.”  
  
He reached down for Lars’s hand and held it in his, twining their fingers together. There was no choice but to ride this out and be there for Lars until tomorrow was over and the forty-eight hours were up.  
  
“I’m here, Lars.” He pushed Lars’s hand away, over and down to the bed, pinning it there as he rose to his feet. “I’m gonna help you.”  
  
He sat beside him, letting that hand go, and Lars kept it there beside his head. And he pulled Lars’s hand away from his cock, so he could wrap his own hands around it instead.  
  
Lars gasped a soft, “ _Oh._ ”  
  
His lips stayed in a perfect ‘o,’ more tiny, choked gasps spilling out as James stroked him slow, a hand on the base, a hand covering on top.  
  
“How’s that, baby?”  
  
Both arms framed Lars’s head now, hands balling into fists. “James…”  
  
He smiled, moving his hands up and down Lars’s cock in clockwise motions. “That feel good?”  
  
“Yes, fuck yes…” He spread his legs, hips moving with the rhythm James made. “Oh God…”  
  
“That’s it. Just like that.” One hand drifted away, down to Lars’s balls. He cupped them, giving a gentle squeeze.  
  
The result made his jeans painfully tight: Lars’s whole body jolting, a large gasp, legs and arms stiffening, muscles taut—and Lars squeaking out, “ _James_ ,” in a tight plea.  
  
“Y’liked that, huh?”  
  
“Uh, uh-huh. ” Lars’s breathing labored, hips jerking like his arms and legs. “G-Gonna come. Gonna come. Oh God. Oh God.” Licked his lips sloppy and planted his cheek to the sheets, the bed squeaking under him. “Jaaa _ames…_ ”  
  
He let go of Lars’s balls to unzip his own jeans, pulling his hard cock free. “Fuck. Lars. _Lars._ ” Stroked himself as fast as he stroked Lars, bending his neck down. “Come, baby. Come for me.” And he let him go to pin his whole arm down over his waist, sucking him into his mouth.  
  
There was no wait period. The second his tongue touched Lars’s cock, he heard Lars’s sharp cry and felt warm come fill his mouth. His heavy arm kept Lars’s convulsing body pinned down to the bed so he could suck him easier through his orgasm. A few strokes later, James followed, coming into his own hand, moaning around Lars’s cock.  
  
His mouth worked Lars’s cock, drawing out his orgasm, dribbles of come spilling over his lips. He pulled away when he heard Lars’s pained moan, signaling the end, and he kissed his stomach, his pelvic line, his hip.  
  
“James…” Shaky fingers weaved into his hair and slowly started to pet him. “Oh James…”  
  
He lifted his head up to look at Lars. “Yes?”  
  
Lars weakly smiled. “I love you.”  
  
He smiled back. “Love you too.” The hand in his hair slid down his face and off. James let go of his softening cock and sat up fully to loom over Lars. He rested a hand over Lars’s belly. “You feeling better now?”  
  
Lars nodded yes.  
  
“Good.” He didn’t look it though. His face was still red, his body warm to touch. “You wanna take another cold shower?”  
  
Lars shook his head no.  
  
“Hungry?”  
  
He shook his head no again. His arms rose slightly from the bed, outstretched to James, and James caught the request easily.  
  
The bed squeaked and shifted as James spooned Lars’s side. He kissed his sweaty cheek, stroking his belly now in small circles. “G’night, baby.”  
  
Lars sighed with a smile, rolling his head to James’s shoulder and snuggling in. “Mm.” His hand fell over James’s moving forearm. “Night…”  
  
James watched Lars fall asleep, felt the rise and fall of his belly under his hand, the heavy breathing warming his skin. In Lars’s breathing, he heard a light wheeze. A soft sniffle. Like Lars was actually getting sick—a real type of lovesickness from the ‘elixir.’ _I fucking warned Kirk…_  
  
He sighed, sliding his hand to Lars’s waist. It didn’t matter anymore what happened before. What mattered now was getting Lars better again, making it to the forty-eight hour mark. But the questions wouldn’t go away. What if it was longer than that? What if it was forever? What if—  
  
James shut his eyes. _No. Don’t think like that. Everything will be okay. He’s gonna be okay._ He hugged Lars tight and kissed his cheek. _You have to be._


	4. Chapter 4

Come the morning, James found Lars looking worse than he did yesterday. Overnight he sweated hard enough the pillow and sheets were almost soaked. Sweat was still on his body, drops collecting and falling, and James worried when he heard Lars’s soft, pained moans.  
  
“Lars?” He touched Lars’s neck and flinched back. _Jesus, his skin’s like a stovetop._ His fingers brushed Lars’s sweaty cheek. “Lars, wake up.”  
  
Lars groaned. It took a moment, but he finally opened his eyes enough so James knew he was seeing. Except he didn’t look coherent at all.  
  
“Hi baby.”  
  
Lars managed a small smile. “Hi.”  
  
“You thirsty?”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“I’ll get you some water.”  
  
“Sh… Shower.”  
  
“You want a shower first?”  
  
“Ja.”  
  
“Okay. Shower first then.”  
  
He knew a shower wasn’t the only way to cool Lars down. It was a temporary fix to what James learned last night was the real way of helping. He waited for the right moment though, didn’t want to touch too fast. He wanted Lars more awake.  
  
His clothes from last night all fluttered to the floor, undressing fast so he could lead Lars to the bathroom. He steadied Lars’s weak body, helping him from the bed to the shower, and the sight of Lars slumped against the shower corner worsened James’s worry.  
  
“C’mere.” He stepped into the tub and pulled Lars to his side. “Let’s get you clean.”  
  
The cold water made James wince, but Lars purred against his side, rubbing against his hip. “Feels good,” he murmured into his shoulder.  
  
“I bet it does.” He patted his chest, spreading cool water over his sternum. _I’m sorry Lars._ He kissed his cheek. _I’m sorry I opened my fucking mouth…_ “That good?”  
  
“Mmhm.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
James took his time turning Lars around under the cold spray, making sure all the sweat and stench from last night was gone. He let Lars lean against him the whole time. There was little to no strength left in Lars’s body. He couldn’t hold himself upright anymore alone. The end of forty-eight hours couldn’t come any sooner.  
  
Once he found Lars’s body cooler to touch, he situated them around, so Lars’s back pressed against the tile. He watched the cold water trickle over Lars’s head and cheeks, his parted lips, water dripping from his chin. He looked so much better. Less delirious than before. But his cock was hard. _Time to really help him._  
  
“How do you feel now?”  
  
Lars gave him a lazy smile. “Much better.”  
  
“Good.” And he kissed his wet lips. Rubbed his hands over Lars’s chest—tweaking his nipples and Lars gasped, “James,” arching up to him. He pinched his nipples again, played with the ring, kissed him and took away his breath. Lars’s morning wood stood to attention and James knew he was ready now.  
  
Lars’s lips chased his when he pulled away from the kiss. He blinked slow. “James…?”  
  
Those eyes went wide as James slid to his knees.  
  
James smiled up at him. Held Lars’s hip in one hand, while the other wrapped around the base of his dick. And he didn’t look away from Lars as he took him into his mouth, sucking the tip and stroking the rest.  
  
He didn’t last long. Hands wove into his hair, and two thrusts later, Lars came with a small yelp, slumping against the wet tile, thighs and knees shaking around his head. James swallowed what he could and let the rest fall over his face, the cold spray wiping it away. He kissed his stomach, his hips, slid his hands behind Lars and squeezed his ass, kissing his bellybutton.  
  
The hands in his hair smoothed out. “James…” Lars sighed and relaxed above him, the hands slowly playing with his wet strands. “Du er så lækker.”  
  
He had no idea what he said, but it sounded good. His hands let Lars’s ass go and slid up his muscled back as he came to his feet, pressing their chests together. His arms squeezed around Lars, kissing him again.  
  
It worked. After the shower, Lars flopped back onto bed and fell into a doze, curled around James’s pillow, snoring into the fabric. James smiled at the sight and let him be, grabbing a white robe and slipping it on as he headed into the living room to watch some TV.  
  
An hour later, he checked up on Lars and he frowned, finding him already sweating again, moaning in his sleep. The clock on the bedside table said 10 in the morning—only eight, nine more hours to go, until Lars was normal again.  
  
The door knocked. _Must be room service._ He brushed a hand over Lars’s head and frowned. _Hot again. Dammit._  
  
Lars stirred a little when James kissed his sleeping lips.  
  
 _Please get better._  
  
He answered the door finally and greeted the man on the other side. Stood on the sidelines and watched him push the cart to the living room, setting up the table there for their breakfast/lunch. There was no way Lars was going to be able to eat at the table, but he wasn’t going to tell the guy otherwise.  
  
Once he was gone, James returned to the bedroom and found Lars slowly waking up, rolling onto his side. He came over and sat beside him, laying a hand on his hip. “Hey there.”  
  
Lars groaned a “hi.”  
  
“How’re you feeling?”  
  
“Hot. Again.” He slapped a sweaty arm over his forehead. “Fuck.”  
  
James smiled. _At least Lars still sounds normal._ He rubbed his hip. “I got us food.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I made them make us hamburgers.”  
  
Lars lifted his head up. “My God I love you.”  
  
He chuckled as he leaned down to kiss him. Slid his hand from Lars’s hip around his belly and held him close, deepening the kiss for a brief moment, before he pulled away, their noses brushing. “Stay here. I’ll bring it to you.”  
  
“Heh, you’re spoiling me.”  
  
“Only because you don’t feel good.”  
  
“Excuses, excuses.” He stuck his tongue out. “Softie.” And giggled.  
  
James growled under his breath. “Lars…” His hands snatched up Lars’s wrists and he pounced over him, pinning him down to the bed.  
  
“Ah!” Lars yelped and pushed up, giggling as he tried to knock him off. “Let me go!”  
  
“Nope.” He bit the side of his neck, hissing into the skin, “You’re all mine.”  
  
Lars’s moan sounded good and loud in his ear. “James...”  
  
He kissed Lars’s neck. Kissed a wet path down his collarbones, loosening his grip on his wrists. His palms slid down Lars’s forearms, down to this biceps, shoulders, his lips kissing down to Lars’s sternum, his nose moving through Lars’s chest hair.  
  
Lars’s head lolled to the side. He caught heavy-lidded eyes focused only on him, smiling soft. His cheeks were already turning rosy again, sweat collecting on the upper brow.  
  
James smiled back, his chin on Lars’s belly.  
  
 _Anything to help him through this._  
  
He took Lars into his mouth again. Found Lars’s hands coming for his hair and he grabbed them in time. He twined their fingers together, resting the clasped hands over Lars’s hips. He moved his head to Lars’s thrust, letting him control the tempo, whatever could get him to orgasm the fastest.  
  
And then Lars’s hands pulled away from his.  
  
“S-Stop… James…” They pushed at his shoulders. “Wait…”  
  
He slowly lifted his head away and looked up at Lars perplexed. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing’s wrong—”  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine, really. I just…”  
  
James almost cut him off with _no you’re not,_ except Lars sat up quick and kissed him too fast. A kiss James moaned into when he felt Lars’s hand slip under the robe, between his legs, and touch him.  
  
Lars pulled away to smile and whisper, “I wanna touch you too.”  
  
 _Lars…_ James smiled back. “Alright.”  
  
They kissed again, James pushing Lars to the bed, covering him with his body. He snaked a hand between them to untie the sash of his robe, letting it fall down his shoulders. Lars helped, pushing it off and down to the floor, groping his arms along the way. Their cocks touched, rubbed together, and they moaned into the kiss, into each other. A slow, rocking rhythm started between them, their hips meeting with each thrust. Lars’s fingers pressed into James’s back as his moans rose in volume, and James matched in growls and grunts. It could’ve been so easy to come this way, but James pulled away before it could happen, panting over Lars’s wet lips.  
  
Lars protested in a long whine. “Jaaames…”  
  
“Shh…” He kissed him. “You wanted to touch me, yeah?”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
James rolled off and pulled Lars with him until they laid face to face, chest to chest, side by side. “Then go ahead.” He wrapped his hand around Lars’s dick between them and gave him a good stroke. “Touch me, baby.”  
  
Lars moaned, arching into James’s hand. “Oh God…” His own shaky hand wrapped around James’s cock and he slowly started to stroke him, trying to match James’s rhythm. “James…”  
  
He kissed him quiet. Kissed him deep and sped up his strokes, moaning when Lars mimicked his movements. Pumped and stroked at the same speed, like follow the leader. Like they did the first time they were in bed together, thirty years ago, except Lars was the bold one then. Equally nervous, equally unsure…  
  
His orgasm came too fast and he moaned deep, coming into Lars’s hand. Shivered as Lars stroked him through his orgasm, and then he tasted Lars’s yelp, felt come spill over his hand. He gave Lars back the same treatment, kissing and stroking him until he was done.  
  
They breathed hard when they broke the kiss. Their noses brushed, foreheads pressed together. From this close, James could feel Lars’s full bodied shivers.  
  
“James…” Lars slipped his head down to his chest, teeth on his neck. “Mm…” And he gently bit down.  
  
James moaned as Lars nipped at the skin like a cat, little nips and kisses that felt good. He brought his arm around Lars’s waist, discreetly wiping his hand on the sheets. “Lars…”  
  
Lars responded with another nip.  
  
“Unh… Laaars…” He tilted his head to the side, cheek pressing to the pillow fabric, giving Lars more skin to nip at. “More.”  
  
Lars giggled softly and gave him another. And another. The next went deeper than the others and James jolted and moaned loud as Lars started to suck the skin. _Fuck. Only Lars knows how to give a good hickey..._  
  
More rose up on his neck as Lars nipped and sucked from one side of his neck to the other. He hugged Lars close, a hand absentmindedly rubbing the small of Lars’s back. “God, Lars…”  
  
Lars licked at the bite given under James’s jaw. “Like that?”  
  
“Fuck, you know I do.”  
  
“Hee.” He rubbed his nose over the bite. “Yeah, I do.” He sighed against his neck and hugged him back. “I hadn’t done that in a while, huh?”  
  
“Mhm. I missed it.”  
  
“Yeah… I dunno why, I felt… compelled, y’know. To do it now. I don’t know why though.”  
  
The pleasure and contentment he felt disappeared at the sound of Lars’s confusion. _Shit. That’s right. He doesn’t know…_  
  
Lars groaned into his chest. Coughed. Sniffled. “Ugh.” Sniffled again. “The hell’s wrong with me?” He chuckled low. “Not that I don’t mind the libido boost, but fuck, this is just weird, like, ever since we got to the country, I’ve been feeling _hot_ and _tired_ all the time. I don’t get it. Was it something I ate, or—”  
  
“Lars?”  
  
“Uh? Yeah James?”  
  
James sighed. “I know why.”


	5. Chapter 5

“You do?”  
  
 _Shit._ James nodded yes. _Fucking shit._  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
 _I’m scared. It’s my fault. I…_  
  
“James.”  
  
He let go of Lars and rolled away. _Please don’t be mad._ His legs swung over the side of the bed and he sat up, turning his back to him. _Fuck, he’s gonna get mad._  
  
“James?” Lars touched his shoulder. “What’s going on?”  
  
“It’s, uh… weird.”  
  
“Weird?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Um… okay?”  
  
“You probably won’t believe me.”  
  
Lars’s hand slid down to his forearm. “I’ve been having sex with you more than I have the rest of the year. Probably even the last _few_ years.” He shifted around and crawled over to James to sit beside him. “Try me.”  
  
He kept his focus on the floor, fingers fidgeting together on his naked lap. “Well…” _Start with the truth._ “It’s Kirk’s fault.”  
  
Lars chuckled. “Uh-huh.”  
  
“He bought it.”  
  
“Bought what?”  
  
“That… bottle.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Y’know. The thing you drank on Thursday?”  
  
“Ooh… with the heart-shape top and jewels and shit?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I see.” Lars pulled his hand away from James. “So it was drugged.”  
  
“Uh—”  
  
“Ecstasy, I guess. Maybe a variant of it—”  
  
“Not really.”  
  
“What do you mean _not really?_ ”  
  
James cringed. _Here we go._ “It’s a potion.”  
  
“A _what_?”  
  
“That’s what the old lady told Kirk—”  
  
“Old lady?”  
  
“Can I tell you or not?”  
  
“Ugh! Fine.”  
  
“Thanks.” He took a deep breath. “So Kirk went to the bazaar with Rob and Tom on Thursday.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“When he was there, he bought that bottle from an old woman.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
He said all in one go: “Who said it was an elixir blessed by the goddess Ishtar and it’d wear off in 48 hours.”  
  
Silence.  
  
James clasped his hands together. “… Yep.”  
  
More silence.  
  
And then, Lars laughed.  
  
“Okay, hold on, time out.” Lars shifted beside him. Their knees touched. “Look at me, Hetfield.” He did, his eyes rolling up like a child, and Lars glared at him like an understanding, bewildered, slightly amused parent whose anger was about to blow. “Let’s recap, because my brain isn’t sure what to make of this. Okay?”  
  
James nodded.  
  
“Okay. So.” He counted off. “Kirk. Old lady. And a ‘special’ elixir from a _love_ goddess—” He pointed to his dick, already getting hard again. “That causes this.”  
  
“I had no idea it would—”  
  
“No no no.” He pressed a finger to James’s lips. “Let me finish.”  
  
James shut his mouth, pursing his lips.  
  
“Good.” Lars pulled his hand away. “So Kirk bought it, gave it to you to give to me, and I specifically remember hearing from _you that_ it was a present. From _you_.”  
  
James felt himself shrinking under Lars’s glare. “Uh-huh.”  
  
“So I only have one question left.” His anger slipped out when he spat, “Why the fuck would he buy a _love_ potion, give it to you and you give it to me, and yet you claim you had no idea what it would do to me?”  
  
“I thought it was vodka!”  
  
“Tell me the truth James!”  
  
“It is!” He turned to Lars and grabbed his shoulders. “You have to believe me. I never would’ve let you take that potion if I had known it would put you into this state.”  
  
“Then why did Kirk buy it?”  
  
“He was trying to help—” _Oh shit._ He cut himself short.  
  
“Help what?” Lars’s glare gained a speculative edge. “What did you tell him?”  
  
He squeezed his eyes tight as he squeezed Lars’s shoulders. _Shit. Fuck. Shit—_ “I…” He sighed. _I’m sorry._ His hands slipped down Lars’s arms. “I told him about us.”  
  
“What _about_ us?”  
  
“Just…” He pulled away from Lars, hands back in his lap. “How I’ve been feeling lately. Like, how I feel like we’ve been pulling away from each other the last year. I mean, you’re off to art shows and movies, I’m in the garage all the time or at a car show… and even though we’re in the studio together all the time and have movie nights and dinners out and stuff at home, I dunno.” He shrugged. “I felt like, we were losing that thing between us. Y’know.”  
  
“Our intimacy.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Lars’s knee moved away from his. He looked up and found Lars’s back turned to him, arms crossed around his body.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
There was no anger in the question. Only confusion. The sound of it hurt worse than Lars’s anger.  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“Shit.” Lars ran a hand through his hair. “Have I really been an asshole lately?”  
  
James blinked. “What?”  
  
“I don’t blame you, I’ve been all over the place really—”  
  
“It’s not—”  
  
“Maybe it’s the studio arguments, not going to your car show—”  
  
“It’s—”  
  
“Hanging out with Lou, the Lulu shit—”  
  
“Lars—”  
  
“The lack of sex, I mean—”  
  
He touched his shoulder. “Baby—”  
  
Lars shrugged his hand off. “Don’t.”  
  
 _No._ He went for his shoulder again, held on when Lars tried to push him off. His arm secured fast around Lars’s chest and he pressed his face to the side of Lars’s head, hugging him tight.  
  
Lars’s hand squeezed his wrist hard. “Let go.”  
  
“No.”  
  
He sighed. “James.”  
  
“It’s my fault.”  
  
“Because of me. You wouldn’t have gone to Kirk if you actually trusted me.”  
  
“I _do_ trust you. I was just… scared.”  
  
“Of me.”  
  
“Of talking in general. Alright? Don’t put words into my mouth.” He slid his hand from Lars’s shoulder and wrapped the other arm around his waist. He chuckled. “It doesn’t matter how old I get. I’ll always have problems opening up.” He squeezed Lars tight. “Especially to the one I love most.”  
  
He watched the corner of Lars’s lips curl upwards. “Softie.”  
  
“Heh.” He leaned over Lars’s shoulder and turned his head to kiss him. And Lars tilted his head back, meeting him halfway with waiting lips.  
  
They shared a moan, Lars reaching a hand up into James’s hair to pull him closer, and James let him, sighing into the kiss. Soon he felt Lars pulling at his neck, pulling him down over him, and he crawled around, settling over Lars, his arms and legs on either side of his body. Lars’s fingers weaved through his hair, a leg hooking over James’s hip, and James moaned in response, rocking his hips slowly.  
  
And then a loud stomach grumbled roared out.  
  
James broke the kiss and smiled down at Lars. “I think it’s time to eat.”  
  
“Mm, yeah.” Lars rolled his hips a little, grinning at James’s soft gasp. “Then this?”  
  
James nodded. “Yeah.” He kissed him again. “If there’s one thing I figured out for sure, it’s that orgasms make you feel better.”  
  
“And _tired_ after.”  
  
“Which is good, yeah? It kills the time.”  
  
“How much longer until it’s over?”  
  
“We’re about…” He checked the clock on the beside table. A few minutes past noon. “42 hours in now.”  
  
“ _Fuck._ ” Lars slammed his head back into the mattress. “Six fucking hours to go. Great.”  
  
“It’ll be over in no time.”  
  
“So you say.”  
  
“It will.” _I hope._ He rolled off Lars and the bed. “C’mon. Let’s get you some food.”  
  
“Alright.” Lars rolled onto his side and sat up. Already sweat formed on his brow and his collarbones, and he swiped a hand over his forehead. “Shit. It’s already happening.”  
  
“I know, but food first.”  
  
“Okay, okay…” He pushed himself up with his elbows until he finally sat up, and then took James’s offered hand, using it as his balance to stand. “As much as it’s been fun…” He leaned against his side, clasping James’s hand in his. “I can’t wait to be normal again.”  
  
James squeezed back. “No more sex after this?”  
  
Lars snorted. “All I’m asking is at least a month recovery. Not abstinence.”  
  
They shared a laugh together, leaving the bedroom for the living room.  
  
Their food was cold but it was a problem easily fixed with the microwave. They ate together, their chairs side by side, eating their hamburgers and sharing fries naked like they were in their twenties again on a hot summer SoCal day. Lars fed James some like he did back then, stuffing his cheeks out, but there was no food sharing, no spitting into each others mouths. “Let’s save that when Dave’s around,” Lars said, and James rolled his eyes and shook his head.  
  
It was back to the bedroom once their plates were clean, falling back into the position they were in before. Except James wasn’t in the mood anymore. While Lars’s libido was out of control, his own was normal—and exhausted. All his body was telling him was to stop, rest, have some alone time.  
  
 _But Lars needs this._ He slid off Lars to his side, and wrapped his hand around his cock. _And this was my fault…_  
  
Lars moaned as he slowly stroked him. “James… mmm…”  
  
He kissed his neck, speeding up the movements of his hand. “C’mon baby. Touch yourself.”  
  
“Ooh…” Lars reached up for his nipples, pinched and pulled them between his fingers. “Oh fuck…”  
  
“That’s it. Harder.”  
  
Lars mewed, doing as James asked. His hips moved with James’s hand. “James…”  
  
“Yeah. Just like that.” He leaned in and bit at Lars’s neck, sucking the skin a little. “Good.”  
  
He did what he could to bring Lars to orgasm. His fingers squeezed and rolled his balls, pumped and stroked the shaft, thumbed and rubbed the tip. His teeth bit and sucked and pulled at Lars’s neck and shoulder, his tongue licking up sweat. And he thought it was over when Lars gasped and shivered beside him.  
  
But when James looked up, he found Lars’s cock still hard, and no come.  
  
“Oh shit.”  
  
“Huh? What…” Lars opened his eyes, found what James was looking at and groaned, “Oh… oh no.”  
  
“You came though, right?”  
  
Lars nodded yes.  
  
“Then what the fuck…” James pressed a hand to Lars’s forehead. “You’re still hot.”  
  
“No shit.” Lars moaned, bringing a hand to his dick. “I d-don’t know… ugh, what’s wrong.” He stroked himself slow, hissed through his teeth. “Hurts.”  
  
“Then stop touching yourself!”  
  
“I can’t!” Lars rolled over, his strokes becoming faster. “Oh God… fuck… fuck…” His hips rocked. “C’mon, come… come, dammit… ugh…”  
  
James touched his back. “Lars…”  
  
“C’mon… c’mon…!” He shouted, jerking up into his hand—and nothing came out. “Ahh!” Lars slumped onto the bed, his hand pounding down. “Fuck!” He buried the side of his red face into the pillow. “I can’t take it…” He shivered. “Fuck…” And sniffled. “Help me.”  
  
“Shit.” James turned away, scrambling off the bed for the bathroom. “I’m gonna start a cold bath.”  
  
“Please…” Lars curled up into a ball and whimpered. “Hurts.”  
  
“I know baby. I’ll be right back.” _And I’m going to kill Kirk._  
  
He plugged up the tub, filling it to the brim with cold water, and rushed back into the room to help Lars. But Lars could barely walk. His feet tripped over each other and he leaned on James the entire way to the bathroom. He almost slipping on the linoleum tile as he stepped into the cold water. James eased him into it, an arm around his shoulders, submerging him neck-high.  
  
“Is that better?”  
  
“God, fuck yeah.” Lars took a quick breath of air. “What’s happening to me?”  
  
“I don’t know.” He cupped some cold water into his hand and poured it over Lars’s head.  
  
“I’m scared,” Lars whispered. “I feel like I’m… burning or something.”  
  
Something went off in his head. _Burning?_ James frowned. “I don’t—” And he stopped, his jaw dropping wide open. _Burning, Kirk said._ “Oh.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
 _Ishtar’s most passionate burn._ “Oh shit.”  
  
“What? What is it?”  
  
“Um.”  
  
Lars growled, “ _What_ , James?”  
  
James winced. “I…” He retreated back a little from the tub, his wet hands on the edge. “Forgot about something.”  
  
“And that is?”  
  
“It was part of the old woman’s story she told Kirk. After forty-eight hours, it’d go away in a major release. Called, uh, ‘Ishtar’s most passionate burn,’ or something.”  
  
Lars slowly blinked. “And _that_ is?”  
  
“Uh.” He pointed to Lars’s hard cock in the water. “That. I think.”  
  
“You _THINK?_ ”  
  
James flinched. “Um. Yeah.”  
  
“ARRRRRGH!” Lars slammed his fists repeatedly in the water, splashed some out of the tub. “Did ANYONE think of researching this _BEFORE_ I drank that shit?!”  
  
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know—”  
  
“I KNOW JAMES! UGH!” He slumped down into the tub until the water rose up over his mouth. From beneath the surface, James heard a gargled “FUUUUUCK!” And then Lars emerged above, spitting out some water, and then taking a deep breath. “Okay. I feel a little better.” He sharply turned to James. “Call Kirk, tell him to figure the _fuck_ out what the _fuck_ the Ishtar burning shit is or _I’ll kill him myself._ ”  
  
“You got it.”  
  
“Thank you.” He rested a wet hand over James’s on the tub’s edge. “Know I’m not mad at you, just the situation.”  
  
James smiled. “And Kirk.”  
  
“ _Especially_ Kirk.”  
  
“Heh.” He squeezed Lars’s hand back. “Try to relax.”  
  
“Ugh, easier said.”  
  
“I know.” He kissed his burning cheek. “Just try.”  
  
Lars sighed. “Alright.”  
  
James came to his feet and left Lars alone in the bathroom, mindful of the wet tiles as he headed out. He kept the door open though, in case Lars needed anything, and rushed over to the bedroom to fish his iPhone out of his pants.


	6. Chapter 6

Kirk didn’t pick up the first two tries. Tom, thankfully, picked up instead. “Hey James.”  
  
“Hey, is Kirk with you?”  
  
“Yeah, he and Rob are getting ready to go surfing.”  
  
“Tell him to get on the phone. It’s an emergency.”  
  
“With Lars?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Anything I can do?”  
  
“No thanks. This is something Kirk has to do himself.”  
  
“Alright. Let me get him on the line.”  
  
He heard Tom yell Kirk’s name in the background. James turned to check up on Lars in the bathroom and found him cupping and pouring water over his head and face. _God, he looks awful._  
  
And then Kirk spoke. “Hey James.”  
  
“He’s gotten worse, dick.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“That whole ‘Ishtar passionate burn’ shit kicked in!”  
  
“Woah. Really?”  
  
“ _Yes_ really!”  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
“Because he’s sitting in a tub of cold water with a hard dick that won’t fucking die.”  
  
“Oh. Oh dear.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Ohhh shit.”  
  
“ _Yeah_.”  
  
Kirk sighed. “He’s pissed, isn’t he?”  
  
“He’s _not_ the only one.”  
  
“Oh just great. Okay. Have you, uh, done anything—”  
  
“I’ve jerked him off, he’s jerked himself off, nothing. No come. Just dry orgasms.”  
  
“How about a blowjob?”  
  
“If a handjob didn’t work, how the fuck should a _blowjob_ work?”  
  
“It’s hotter?”  
  
“Kirk!”  
  
“Fucking him works too.”  
  
“Will you—”  
  
Lars cut James off, screaming from the bathroom: “FUCKING FIGURE OUT THIS SHIT RIGHT NOW HAMMETT!” James winced as Lars splashed more water and cried out. “I can’t take it anymore!”  
  
James growled. “You heard him. You got until 6PM to track that old woman down and figure out what the fuck that Ishtar shit is or I swear to God—”  
  
“Alright, alright! I got it.”  
  
“I mean it Kirk!”  
  
“I said I got it!”  
  
“Good.”  
  
He hung up and left the phone on the bed, rushing over to Lars’s side. Even in that short amount of time, he found Lars looking bad again. His cheeks were a bright red, his upper lip and brow dotted with water and sweat, his lips dry and parted. And his cock was still fucking hard, the head turning purple.  
  
 _Shit._  
  
“Baby.” James reached into the water to touch him and frowned. _Already hot? Son of a bitch._ He rubbed Lars’s tummy. “Baby, look at me.”  
  
Lars’s eyes rolled to him. “James…”  
  
“Hi baby.”  
  
“Hi,” he groaned. “I don’t feel good.”  
  
“I know. It’ll be okay. Kirk’s going to get the answer.”  
  
“Fuckin’ better.” His head lolled to the side. “Hurts.”  
  
“Anything I can do?” He slid his hand down Lars’s tummy toward his cock. “Anything at all.”  
  
“Mm.” Lars touched his wrist. “Stay with me.”  
  
“That’s it?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
‘You sure?”  
  
“Mhm.”  
  
“I could blow you…”  
  
“S’not gonna help.” He squeezed James’s wrist. “Just—” He groaned again. A full body shiver traveled so hard the water rippled and James felt it. “Stay. Don’t leave.”  
  
“I won’t.” He leaned in and kissed him, cupping his hot cheek. “I love you.”  
  
Lars smiled weakly. “Love you too.”  
  
Almost two hours passed. Kirk hadn’t called, and Lars’s condition worsened. Multiple cold baths and showers didn’t help any longer. He couldn’t move himself anymore either. His body was constantly hot, his speech was starting to slur in places and he was coming in and out of consciousness. The latter was probably the most merciful thing happening to Lars. At least he didn’t have to focus on the pain when he was unconscious.  
  
He glanced at the clock in the bedroom. Three hours to go now. _What’s taking them so long? How hard is it to find one old fucking woman?_  
  
In the tub, Lars mewed in pain.  
  
James squeezed his hand. “Hang in there, baby.”  
  
Lars’s bleary eyes focused on him. “James… s’hot…”  
  
“The water’s hot again?”  
  
“Ja.”  
  
“Okay.” He sunk his arms in deep, hooking them under Lars’s legs and back and lifted him up. “Let’s fix you another one.”  
  
“Water.”  
  
“I’ll get some of that too.”  
  
Lars rested his hot cheek on James’s chest and sighed. “Love you.”  
  
He carried Lars to the bedroom, his arms and chest burning from the heat of Lars’s skin, and sighed in relief when he laid him down on the bed. It was getting difficult to even touch Lars now without the aid of something cold.  
  
Lars moaned in pain again, twitching on the bed.  
  
James ran a hand over his hair.  
  
 _I’m sorry._  
  
He covered Lars up in a cold, wet towel, kissing his forehead when done. Once he saw Lars discreetly taking his cell and leaving for the living room for a minute. The door was left open, so he could monitor Lars as he talked.  
  
Three calls to Kirk’s phone produced no results. He didn’t pick up. Calling Rob’s phone was useless too. Thankfully, on the first call, Tom picked up.  
  
“Where are you?”  
  
“At the bazaar.”  
  
James sighed, “Thank God.”  
  
“And you have _no idea_ what we are going through to get the answers—”  
  
“I don’t care, just _get them._ I can’t even touch Lars’s body anymore.”  
  
“He’s that hot now?”  
  
“Yeah. I’m assuming Kirk informed you what’s going on.”  
  
“Love potion, ‘Ishtar’s most passionate burn,’ old woman, got it.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“He’s an idiot.”  
  
“I know—”  
  
“No, he’s _really_ an idiot. He wasn’t supposed to give Lars the entire potion.”  
  
James froze. “What.”  
  
“Yeah. The old woman said on the bottom of the bottle are the only instructions for the potion and Kirk completely forgot about it.”  
  
“ _What_.”  
  
“Check it yourself.”  
  
James walked over to the kitchen and found damn the bottle where Lars had last left it on the table. He picked it up, turned it over—and there in small print was a printed piece of white paper sticking to the bottom.  
  
In black typed text, it read:  
  
 **1\. POUR IN TWO CUPS EQUAL AMOUNTS  
2\. SHARE WITH YOUR S.O  
3\. ENJOY FOR 48 HRS **  
  
“Oh you’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”  
  
“I wish I was. She said it was never supposed to be given to just one person. Both of you were supposed to drink it. So now he’s apparently ‘love poisoned’ and this is the first time that’s ever happened.”  
  
“And you were going to tell me this _when_?”  
  
“Once Kirk and Rob came back. They’re currently on some other plane of existence with the old woman trying to get the answers for Lars.”  
  
“Of course they are.” He threw the bottle into the trash can, enjoying the sound of it cracking. “Now what?”  
  
“Try to keep Lars cool and coherent. He’s technically sick, according to Nima.”  
  
“Nima?”  
  
“The old lady.”  
  
“Well guess what, I’ve been trying to do that for fucking hours now!” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. _Fucking shit—_ and he froze. “Wait a second. Why are you not with them?”  
  
“Uh. Nima wants me to guard her shop. She’s got lots of powerful potions here and stuff.”  
  
“Right.” He ran the hand from his hair over his face.  
  
“ _James_ …”  
  
He whipped around, watching Lars’s hand twitch on the bed. Heavy-lidded tired eyes pleaded for him.  
  
“Jaaaames…”  
  
“Shit.” He headed back into the bedroom. “Listen, call me the second they’re out of there with the answer. There’s only three hours left. We _need_ the antidote fast.” He sat down beside Lars and pressed a hand to his forehead, wincing and yanking his hand back. “He’s fucking burning up bad. It’s almost inhuman.”  
  
“I know, James. Hang tough. They gotta have the answer soon.”  
  
“I hope so.”  
  
“They will. I’ll call you.”  
  
“Yeah.” He hung up and flung the phone across the bed. He rested his hand over Lars’s twitching own, pushing through the burning pain of holding his fingers. “It’s gonna be okay, Lars. You’re gonna be okay.”  
  
He smiled when Lars weakly squeezed his fingers back.  
  
Two more hours later, and James was losing hope. He called Barbara and Ray for help after he got off the phone with Tom, ordering packs of ice to be delivered immediately. “Is it Lars?” they asked, and James said, “Yes, now hurry up,” and nothing more. He met them at the door, taking the packs of ice from them and filling up the tub alone. The extra packs he shoved into the freezer and he kept Barbara and Ray on stand by, should he need anymore.  
  
It seemed to work at first. Even though it freaked James out when he laid Lars into the tub and steam instantly rose the second his hot skin touched the ice, he still felt better when he saw Lars’s hard on finally die off. But the relief it gave Lars was temporary. At first the ice lasted half an hour before he had to replenish the bath. Then it got worse. Only small intervals of fifteen minutes, then ten. Now it was the home stretch, the last hour before the 48 hrs were supposed to be up…  
  
James shook Lars’s shoulder, his hand in a towel. “Baby?”  
  
And Lars wasn’t moving.  
  
“Baby.” He shook him more. “Baby, wake up.”  
  
Nothing.  
  
 _Oh God._ He shook Lars more, both hands in towels, cupping his shoulders. The water swished in the tub. “Baby, please. Wake up. It’s me.”  
  
Nothing again.  
  
 _No._ “Lars.” He shook his head. _No, no._ “Lars.” _No no no._ “Please.”  
  
He finally breathed easier when Lars slowly opened his eyes a little ways. They rolled up to him and he blinked slow. His head slowly turned towards him. He looked incoherent, completely delirious. But Lars was awake. He was there.  
  
James smiled. “Hi baby. Can you hear me?”  
  
Lars slowly blinked again. He gave a slight nod of his head.  
  
“It’s almost over. Just one more hour to go.” He slipped a hand away, out of a towel, to cup some water and pour it over Lars’s chest. “I need you to stay awake though. Don’t fall asleep. Okay?”  
  
Lars grunted. His eyelids fluttered.  
  
“No no no, stay awake. Stay awake, Lars.” He poured more water over Lars. It was warm again, but there was no more ice, and Barbara and Ray weren’t back yet with the new packs. “I know you’re tired, but don’t go to sleep. You need to fight it.”  
  
Lars moaned.  
  
“I know, but you can’t give in. I can’t let you fall asleep. You’ve burned up too high.” He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His exhale was shaky. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I only wanted—”  
  
“J…”  
  
“Lars?” He leaned in. “What is it, baby?”  
  
Lars’s dry lips tried to form words. Short syllables came out. “J… Jay… mm… J-Jay… Jaymm—”  
  
“Shh. Don’t push yourself.”  
  
“Jay—”  
  
“Relax.” He cupped and poured more water, over Lars’s head this time. “Save your strength.”  
  
“Mm…” A weak smile played on his lips. “L… love—”  
  
The eyelids fell shut.  
  
“No Lars.” His bare hands went to Lars’s face and he ignored the burning pain to shake him. “Don’t go to sleep. Wake up.”  
  
Lars moaned again.  
  
“Wake up!”  
  
He heard Lars sigh, “James,” his head lolling forward.  
  
“Lars!”  
  
Nothing.  
  
“ _Lars!_ ” _Oh God no._ He shook his face harder, his eyes burning wet. _No!_ “ _Lars—!_ ”  
  
The shrill sound of his cell phone snapped in from the bedroom.  
  
 _It’s them._ He let go of Lars’s face and dunked his arms underwater to scoop him up. _It has to be them._  
  
He raced back into the bedroom, delivering unconscious Lars onto the mattress, and picked up his cell.  
  
The caller ID read Kirk’s name.  
  
“Thank God.” He picked it up. “Tell me you have good news.”  
  
“Damn right we do!” Kirk said. “We have it! We have the answer!”  
  
“Oh God thank you, thank you.” James almost fell to his knees in relief. “What is it?”  
  
“It’s gonna sound weird—”  
  
“I don’t give a shit. The whole fucking situation has been weird from the start.” He sat next to him, zeroing in on the rise and fall of his belly, the only thing keeping his anxiety at bay. “What do I have to do to save my Lars?”


	7. Chapter 7

“We’ll tell you when we’re there.”  
  
“Dammit Kirk!”  
  
“Just hold on!”  
  
“ _Kirk—!_ ”  
  
The line went dead.  
  
“Shit!” James threw the phone on the ground. _Son of a bitch._ He paced around for a moment, hands pulling at his hair, muttering under his breath, “shit shit shit _shit._ ” _What have I done? Why did I ever agree to this?_  
  
“Fuck.” He quickly turned his attention back on Lars unconscious on the bed. Lars’s shoulders burned under his palms. “Wake up Lars. Please.” He shook him gently. “Wake _up_.”  
  
There was no movement.  
  
“Please wake up.”  
  
Nothing.  
  
James sat beside him, leaning down. “You have to wake up, Lars. You have to…” He took in his next breath and held it, shutting his eyes. _Fuck._ His exhale hitched at the end. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pressed his forehead to Lars’s, forcing himself to endure the intense heat and burn. “It’s all my fault. I never should’ve…” He swallowed. “I just…” He pulled away and looked down at Lars again. Red lips. Red face. Heavy sweat. Shallow breathing. Unconscious. “Please… don’t _—_ ”  
  
The sharp pounding on his hotel door jerked James’s attention away.  
  
 _They’re here._ He scrambled off the bed, grabbing a robe off the floor and slipping it on. _Fucking finally._ His hands fumbled tying the sash. _If anything happens to Lars—_  
  
He opened the door. “About time…” And froze in place, staring at Kirk, Rob, Tom, and in front of them, a petite old Indian woman in a long purple saree, adorned in gold jewelry. “Um.”  
  
Kirk gestured to her. “James, this is Nima. She’s the descendant of Ishtar.”  
  
“Uh.” He looked down at her. The woman’s narrowed eyes roamed over his body from head to toe. “Come again?”  
  
“Tch, so dumb, too dumb.” She tilted her head. “But he is the one. Must be done.”  
  
James waved a hand in the air. “Whatever. Where is it? Where’s the cure?”  
  
“Right here,” Kirk said, patting to a pouch hanging off his hip.  
  
“Where’s Lars?” Rob said.  
  
“Bedroom.”  
  
He led them in, grabbing a towel from the floor and throwing it Lars before they saw his nakedness. Tom and Rob stood by the door, while Kirk flanked Nima’s side, coming to Lars’s side of the bed. James sat beside him, a hand close to Lars’s shoulder. He could feel the scorching heat radiating off Lars’s skin.  
  
Nima frowned, studying Lars’s unconscious face. “Mm. Not good.” She ventured a wrinkly hand out to touch his chin—and hissed, flinching it away. “Not good at all. Worse than ancestor said.”  
  
James’s stomach flopped. He choked out, “Worse?”  
  
“Fixable though.” She offered her hand to Kirk. “Red bottle first.”  
  
Kirk reached into the pouch, rummaged around and pulled out a dark red bottle, one in the same shape and size he gave to Lars initially. Except it wasn’t no Lisa Frank copy cat, but a Victoria Secret rip off, with lace for a ribbon around the base.  
  
Nima popped the top off. A sweet citrus scent filled the air, like chocolate and oranges mixed together. She hooked her two fingers into the drape of the saree and pressed down on Lars’s lower lip, opening his mouth. The dark liquid shined as she poured it into his mouth, little by little. Lars’s reflexes swallowed it down, until it was gone.  
  
“There.” She passed the bottle back to Kirk. His eyes met hers. “Ancestor made a stabilizer for his sickness. Should lower the symptoms.”  
  
“But not get rid of it, right?”  
  
She shook her head no. “Beyond her power.”  
  
“But she led us to the ancestors who could,” Kirk said, and he pulled out another bottle from the pouch, handing it over to James. “This is yours.”  
  
“What?” His shaky hand grabbed it—and he flinched at how frigid cold it was. He turned it around, noticing it was the same size of Lars’s bottle, but the shape was different. No hearts, no lace, no rhinestones or jewels. It was a simple light blue rectangle of frigid cold, like a thick block of ice taken straight out of the Arctic, but with an iridescent glow of a prism. He glanced at everyone. “The hell is this supposed to do?”  
  
Everyone looked away as one, down to the floor, their cheeks turning bright pink. Everyone except Nima. “You must drink,” she said, tapping the block. “All of it.”  
  
“Okay. And then?”  
  
A slow smile spread across her face. She turned her attention to Lars, and then back to him. “You will know.”  
  
“Okaaay we’re done here, let’s go!” Kirk pulled Nima away from the bed with one arm, the other flailing in the air towards Tom and Rob. “Out we go, come on, let’s leave them to it.”  
  
“To what?” James sat up from the bed, watching Kirk usher everyone out. “What am I doing? What does this do?!” He followed them out. “Kirk!”  
  
“Call us when you’re better!”  
  
“I’ll be guarding the door,” Tom said.  
  
Rob waved. “Good luck!”  
  
“ _Wait!_ ”  
  
The door slammed.  
  
James sighed. The block in his hand glowed, and he lifted it up to his face. His hand was numb now, the cold radiating and chilling his nose. “You better work.”  
  
There were a lot of unanswered question he should’ve had them answer before he opened the bottle. What other ancestors were they talking about? What exactly was this going to do? Why did they rush the hell out of the room? And how were they so certain it _was_ going to work?  
  
He sat down beside Lars, venturing a hand out to touch his arm. It didn’t hurt as much, laying his palm down. The heat lowered considerably, but he was still hot. And still unconscious.  
  
“Lars…” He bent down to kiss his parted lips, tasting some faint residue of whatever that red liquid was. “I’m going to save you. I promise.” He gave him one last kiss, squeezing the block hard. “I love you.”  
  
The bottle let loose a swish sound when he removed the top, the same sound he’d hear whistling outside his window during a raging snow storm. He sniffed the top and smelled nothing—tasted nothing either when he downed the whole thing in one go. There was nothing special about it. He didn’t feel anything special happen after.  
  
 _Ice water._ He placed the empty bottle on the nightstand, licking his cold lips. _Nothing but fucking cold ice water._  
  
His disappointment was quickly usurped by pain.  
  
“Fuck!” He collapsed over himself, arms winding tight around his stomach. Sharp pain dug into his sides, his back. A cold shiver ripped up and down his spine. “ _S-S-Shit!_ ” His teeth chattered, his hands unable to rub his arms, his legs tapping up and down, feet pounding into the carpet. “T-T-The… the _fuck_ is—”  
  
“James…”  
  
He forced his body to cooperate, to turn around and follow that voice. And he forced his mouth to curl up into a smile, when he saw Lars’s sleepy eyes on his. “L-L-Lars… you’re ah… ah…” He swallowed hard and coughed out, “Awake.”  
  
“What’s going on?” He still sounded so tired and groggy, the effects of heat exhaustion in full effect. “Why are you shaking?”  
  
“P-P-Pah… potion. Drank potion.” It hurt to breathe. “Fix you.”  
  
Lars blinked slow. “James,” he wheezed out, pushing himself over on weak arms, the towel falling away from his hips. “Let me…” He reached a hand out to him.  
  
“N-No! No, nonono, you, you relax—” James ripped a hand away from his own bicep. “Don’t ah… aggrav-v-vate…”  
  
“Please—”  
  
“ _Fuck_ , don’t—”  
  
Their hands touched.  
  
They both gasped at the same time.  
  
James’s cold surged away, heat rolling up his palm, over his fingers, up to his elbow. It surged more when their fingers twined, heading up to his shoulder and down his back.  
  
He met Lars’s wide-eyed stare and found the same elation, need and desperation on Lars’s face.  
  
“James?” Lars sounded scared, shocked—and so much better than before. The ugly burning red on his cheeks visibly started to fade. “What’s happening to us?”  
  
“I…” _Don’t know,_ but he stopped himself and pulled Lars to him. His arms snaked around Lars. His leg followed after, hooking over Lars’s hip. The cold faded. The heat won. Lars’s heat. Lars’s body.  
  
Lars felt _wonderful_.  
  
Lars shared the same need and wonder, resting his hands on James’s chest, rubbing his legs against James’s.  
  
 _This is it._ He slid a hand up Lars’s spine to cup the back of his neck. He felt sweat, heat, Lars’s fuzzy hair, and he smiled, leaning in for a kiss that Lars met—a kiss that melted away the cold and the heat and made everything feel perfect. Absolutely perfect. _This is the cure._  
  
James rolled them over, deepening the kiss and shivering at Lars’s deep moan. Their hands roamed and touched, delved into hair, pressed down, held on and bruised—arms, legs, hips, waists. He forgot about the potions, the cold, the heat, and focused only on Lars. Only on this.

He took his time fingering Lars open, blowing him at the same time, got him off and sucked him down, then slipped inside. He held his wrists down to the bed and kissed him quiet, kissed his neck, kissed his collarbones, kissed him again and again as he moved inside him slow enough, just the way James wanted it and just the way Lars liked it. Lars met every thrust, every movement, his hips rising and falling, his body working underneath him like his mouth against his, creating a rhythm that he locked onto without thought, without breaking tempo. Effortless and easy, smooth and good. Just right. Perfect.  
  
It wasn’t enough when they came. They recovered much too fast considering their age, but he didn’t care, and Lars sure as hell didn’t. Lars pushed him down back to the bed, peppering kisses between rough and soft over his torso and down to his tummy, hands finding his dick and stroking it right: long strokes, hard pumps, fingers tickling the shaft and the tip, pressing on the frenum and teasing the base. He almost came in Lars’s mouth that time, and almost came when fingers fucked his ass and stretched him open like he did earlier to Lars. But Lars pulled back just in time with a lazy cat-ate-canary smile, and eyes that told James to submit. He gave in willingly, obeyed without a word said, spreading his thighs open and lifting them up, raising his arms up above his head, ready and waiting for him. And Lars took care of him like only Lars could. He moved slow, as slow as James had moved inside Lars, hands rubbing his wrists, not pinning, lips kissing and molding to his skin, not claiming. James showed his need with pants against his neck, whines above his lips, mumbling and begging for _him_ , squealing for _him,_ arching his neck back and staring at him when his eyes would stay open enough. And Lars obeyed him as much as he did. He moved faster when they got closer, when he squeezed around Lars and his legs trembled around Lars’s waist. He kissed him rougher and bruised his shoulders when he was close. He jerked him off, swallowed his cry, kept fucking him through his orgasm, and gave James a squeal of his own, coming inside him—everything James wanted and needed when they were like this, all done for him.  
  
Time fizzled in and out after that. He woke up once to Lars kissing his neck and rubbing against him, humping his thigh and clinging to his back until he came over his hip. He returned the favor later, spooning behind him and slipping his dick between Lars’s thighs, thrusting lazily. It was different, and strangely more intimate than anything they ever done, Lars’s hands reaching behind him to cling and play with his hair, while his mouth stayed latched onto Lars’s, his hands jerking him off and playing with his balls, his cock sliding between smooth skin.  
  
Their libidos slowly petered off each time they woke up. Blowjobs and handjobs turned into intense make-out sessions and gentle touches to over-sensitized areas. Soon kisses were too much, their lips swollen red, their tongues raw and pulsing, and they backed off to simply rubbing skin, rubbing legs, pressing chests and (gentle) pressing of lips.  
  
Eventually, they gave up touching all together, at whatever hour, neither knew. They lay side by side on the bed, staring into equally sated, tired, relieved eyes, James’s hand on Lars’s hip, Lars’s hand on James’s chest.  
  
Lars’s light whisper matched his tiny smile. “I feel better.”  
  
He sounded the same, whispering back, “I’m glad.” He rubbed his thumb into Lars’s hip dent. “I’m better too.”  
  
His heart seized at the sight and sound of Lars’s sigh: how his eyes closed, his chest expanding and his whole body deflating, head lolling forward. “Thank God,” he murmured against his skin, his cheek planting down over his breastbone. “You scared me.”  
  
James slid his hand up from Lars’s hip to the small of his back. “You scared me too.” He kissed his temple. “It’s over now, though. We’re okay.”  
  
“Yeah?” His voice choked up, his hand curled up over James’s heart. “It won’t come back?”  
  
He searched his mind for any doubt or uncertainty, and he relaxed when he felt none. “It won’t.” He slid his arm fully around Lars’s waist, tucking him better to his chest, under his chin. “I love you, Lars.”  
  
Lars’s voice sounded small and far away. “I love you too James.” He yawned and wiggled a bit, sneaking his leg between James’s. And James’s heart seized again, hearing Lars’s last whisper: “Thank you for saving me…”  
  
The last of his strength disappeared, spending it all on one last, tight embrace to his Lars. He pressed his lips to the top of Lars’s head, nose tickling the fuzzy ends, and James stayed like that, succumbing finally to sleep.  
  
They woke up later, refreshed and potion-free. Lars wasn’t completely up-to-par though. He panicked when he heard him cough, sneeze and sniffle around the bedroom as they packed their things. _It’s not over, it’s still here, it didn’t work_ —and he didn’t feel better until the four of them sat down with Nima later, just before their flight from Dehli to Bangalore. “Side effects of potion poisoning,” she explained. “Normal, no magic, nothing awful. Just a cold. He will feel better after good rest.”  
  
It was almost enough reassurance for James. Almost, because he still looked after Lars and kept him close, all the way to the hotel, at the arena and during the show. He wasn’t alone though. Tom was closeby, Kirk kept an ever-watchful mothering eye, Rob stayed vigilant and quiet like a ready soldier, and there was their entire crew and their PAs, ready to help when asked. They all helped make the day pass by in ease.  
  
He whisked Lars away after the last song was done and they finished their goodbyes to the crowd. Tom was there with the van, holding the door open for them. James helped Lars in, keeping an arm around his shoulders and tucking him into his side. They stayed that way the entire ride back to the hotel, through the lobby and up the elevators to their suite.  
  
Once inside, James undressed Lars, tucking him into the sheets. “You want anything to drink? Soda, water?”  
  
Lars smiled. “Sprite, please.”  
  
“You got it.” He kissed his forehead.  
  
But he stopped abruptly, when Lars’s hand snuck out to grab his. “James?”  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“I wanted to tell you something.”  
  
“What is it, baby?” He leaned down, looming over Lars.  
  
In the lamplight, Lars’s skin looked clammy, but much healthier than yesterday. “I’m glad I drank it.”  
  
“The potion?” James frowned. “But you got sick.”  
  
“Yeah, I know. But it’s okay. Because…” His eyes shined as he whispered, “I got to fall in love with you all over again.”  
  
James squeezed out a watery smile. He rose Lars’s knuckles to his lips and kissed them. “Me too.” He gave his hand a small squeeze, leaning down. “Guess it was a blessing from the gods, uh?”  
  
Lars chuckled. “Guess so.”  
  
They shared a small kiss, lingering as they pulled away. James tucked Lars’s hand back under the covers, smoothing the sheets over his chest. “I’ll be back. Don’t feel guilty if you feel like falling asleep. You need the rest.”  
  
“Okay.” Lars closed his eyes, his head lolling to the side. “Love you.”  
  
“Love you too.”  
  
He dimmed all the lights before he left the room.  
  
**  
  
After filling up his bucket with ice, he found Tom standing at one of the vending machine, carrying his own bucket of ice with some soda bottles lodged in. James took the adjacent one, greeting Tom with a nod. “Hey.”  
  
“Hi James.”  
  
“What’s up?”  
  
“Just celebrating the end of this crazy weekend from hell.” He pressed the button for Dr. Pepper.  
  
James chuckled. “I hear that.” He put in some quarters. “Can’t imagine what you went through with Kirk and Rob.”  
  
“Oh no, Kirk and Rob have their own stories to tell.” Tom picked up the bottle. “All I did was guard the shop.” He put in a dollar bill.  
  
“Oh yeah, that’s right.” He pressed the button for Sprite. “I gotta ask them how that went down.”  
  
“Only thing I know is that they asked about 3 different gods to make your potion, and they had to barter pretty well to actually get it in the first place. How? I don’t want to know, I don’t need to know, I don’t _care._ ” He pressed the button for Mountain Dew. Out tumbled a bottle of Sunkist. “Fuck. I hate orange soda.”  
  
“I’ll take it.”  
  
“Thanks.” Tom grabbed the bottle and passed it over. He didn’t let go when James grabbed the neck. “Just promise me something.”  
  
“Uh, yeah?”  
  
“ _Never_ let me volunteer to guard your door again, or I’m quitting.”  
  
James frowned—and he nearly sunk into the floor, his hand loosening around the bottle. “Oh. Oh shit. I’m sorry.”  
  
“Just saying, man.” Tom shoved the bottle right into his bucket of ice. “I can put up with crazy shit like weird old Indian women and sick Lars and Kirk Hammett, but I _do not_ have the mental capabilities to hear you two…” He shivered like a big, burly man like Tom shouldn’t, and then patted James’s shoulder, walking away. “It’s all good. Really. Have a safe trip back home.”  
  
It took James a minute to get his voice back. He said to the empty wall, “You too, Tom.” And his free hand lifted to his burning red face, covering his eyes. “Shit.”  
  
Come the morning, he told Lars what happened. Lars, of course, saw no problems with it, but he did what James asked, and together, they worked on raising Tom’s salary with extra vacation time, away from the band.

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting because Halloween is around the corner and I'm inspired to try writing another spooky/supernatural fic with them again!


End file.
